The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,40

the trap. Gritting his teeth he grinned lopsidedly at Cara and raised a tufted eyebrow as if in answer to her question.

Wedging the other branch against the upper half circle of the trap, she pushed against the ground trying to pry apart the two sets of teeth. At first nothing happened. Her sweating hands slipped a little on the bark of the branch and Cara wrapped a corner of her dress around it to get a better purchase. Then grabbing hold again, she took a huge gulp of air and pushed on the branch. The muscles across her back stretched painfully as the jaws began to spread apart. Inch by inch they widened. Every muscle in Cara's body screamed as she strained.

"Now, Pennyfeather!"

Pushing with his free foot Pennyfeather began to withdraw his leg. Watching the gradual progress Cara prayed for strength. Suddenly her muscles gave out and the trap snapped shut. It bit on empty air, jerking backwards and hitting her a nasty blow on the ankle. With a gasping sigh, Cara lost her balance and fell in a heap on the leafy ground.

"Are you hurt, Miss?"

Pennyfeather's voice was hoarse with pain but at least he was free of the trap. Cara sat still for a moment taking a mental inventory. Aside from a bruise or two when she fell, her ankle was the only real injury. Staggering up she knelt beside Pennyfeather.

"I suspect we'll both live. But we'd better get out of here before we have to face Lord Wilton."

Cara pulled the material away from Pennyfeather's wound. His leg was bleeding profusely. Tearing off the edge of her petticoat she bound the leg to staunch the flow of blood. After all her effort she knew they couldn't afford to leave a trail of gore to Pennyfeather's cottage. She helped the old man to his feet. Her own ankle pained her but at least she was able to stand on it. Although he protested, Pennyfeather finally accepted Cara's shoulder to lean on as they made their painful progress down the trail.

The children saw them coming and raced out to offer their help. Fluttering around their injured friend, they generally got in the way but Cara was too tired to discourage them.

"Belin, get some rags to clean the wound and, Richard, you get me some water."

Cara was breathless with the unusual exertion as she lowered Pennyfeather into a chair beside the banked fire. She sagged against a table, waiting for her hammering heart to slow. She wiggled her ankle, ignoring the throbbing pain as relief that it wasn't broken washed over her. Looking down at herself she winced at the picture she must make. Her dress was sweat stained and streaked with dirt and a small patch of blood stained the hem. Her face was running with perspiration and her hands were scratched and dirty. Her eyes stared across at the old man whose mouth twitched as though he were sharing her joke. Smiling back she pushed herself away from the table.

"All right, you old wretch. Where do you keep the gin?"

Although the poacher was at first hesitant, under Cara's glowering look he yielded with a grimace. He indicated a corner of the room behind some pans and other odds and ends. Rummaging for the jug, Cara found it and brought it to the table where her patient eyed it longingly. Although Pennyfeather tried to push her away, Cara knelt on the beaten earth floor and with the aid of a knife ripped his buckskins to expose the wound.

She had to swallow several times before she was able to continue her inspection. The teeth from the trap had gouged holes in both sides of the leg which itself was quite swollen and bruised looking. With gentle motions she washed away the dirt and caked blood, watching as fresh blood rose to the surface. Then bracing his leg across her thigh, she uncorked the bottle of gin and poured it liberally across the wounds.

Although Pennyfeather had remained quiet throughout her ministrations, he sucked in his breath as the alcohol stung the wound. He's probably angry at the waste of good gin, Cara thought unsympathetically. Looking up at the man, she grinned at his expression of disgust.

"I didn't use it all."

Cara proffered the jug which Pennyfeather raised in his pawlike hand and swallowed greedily. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve grinning back at the girl as he cradled the jug against his chest.

"Promise me that you'll have this leg looked at, Pennyfeather,"